A Drastic Change of Pace
by Hatner
Summary: Izzy goes by many names, and an ever so slightly troubled past is hidden behind her. Wherever she goes havoc and drama follows in a hurricane. Care to see what she can do to Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne/OC. Rating will most likely change.


My name used to be Elspeth Annalise Blackmore. Then it kinda grew a mind of its own, see, people called me Elsie (cause honestly, Elspeth is kinda weird), then Elly, and then a stranger heard me give my name once, and thought the full thing was Bella, and so did a bunch of other people. Eventually, everyone was calling me Bella, but then someone called me Isabella, because, of course, the majority of these people had no idea what my actual name was, so I was now Isabella. Then came high school, where everyone went wacko, and started calling each other by their last names, and mine got shortened to Black. Now, by this point you should be asking how my parents let this happen, but the the answer to that is fairly simple. I was a foster child, and half the time, my foster parents wouldn't remember our names so they would ask one of the older kids, and they, of course, were calling me by nicknames too. And as long as we were all in school, no one really cared about a name that didn't get spelled right. And no one could ever be bothered to remember my middle name, so they just used Ann. Eventually my name became: Isabella Ann Black.

And then mean people made twilight references. Then I punched them.

I grew up in ten different states before settling into the town of Gotham. Everything I owned would fit into a duffel purely out of habit, even though I was 23 and legal.

I liked it here. People would just call me Izzy, and leave it at that.  
I had a new boyfriend, some rich guy who's name I couldn't remember. Harley something.  
Anyways. I did an impromptu road trip over the summer I turned eighteen and picked up some useful tricks. Like playing poker, credit card scams, fake IDs, a fair share of gambling, got reallllly good at lying, and learned a little bit about fighting. Not enough that I'd expect to win, but enough to be able to hold my own and get away unscathed.

My duffel consisted of this:  
One set of formal wear (gloves, shoes, dress, ect.)  
Three tank tops  
Four pairs of shorts  
Underwear  
Bras  
... Girl stuff  
A leather jacket  
One pair of sweat pants  
A suit (meh. It tended to come in handy)  
A knife  
Handcuffs (cuff 'em and run)  
Three tee shirts  
Two long sleeved  
Three pairs of jeans  
One blouse  
A skirt  
Shampoo, conditioner, tooth brush, tooth paste, razor, first aid kit, ect.  
Wallet  
Hair die  
Make up  
Four lighters  
Sneakers and socks  
One cellphone that I stole from a drug lord (long story) that forever had Internet access, was untraceable, and unlimited everything else. But unfortunately it had to be charged. So I have a charger too.

And believe it or not, it all fit.

I still keep it packed away in the corner of the walk in closet Harley and I share. Just in case.

If I really needed to, I could cut my hair, die it blonde, put in colored contacts, spray on a tan, grab an ID, and become somebody else in ten minutes.  
But I resisted the urge.

Right now, my hair was died a deep brown, and I had brown contacts in. My name was Isobel Anna Moor, so it hasn't changed that much. All I did was take that last half of my last name, and spell it different. I also changed the spelling of my first. But that's okay I guess. I had enough money stored up from poker and fake credit cards that I could probably buy Bill Gates }yes. They do have him. I needed something to compare it to{ twelve time over.

But I let Harley think I needed him.

He was just a fling. And I was a little more to him than a +1.

Speaking of which, we had a party tonight. One his friends. The Wayne heir I think...

I walked over to the closet and looked over the clothes that resided there.

Tonight was casual black tie, whatever the hell that means.

Hmm... What to wear...

I pulled out a navy blue velvet strapless gown. Even on me it almost reached the ground. But heels were out of the question. They made me look like a giant with my 5, 10 hight.

I looked over at my jewelry box. Should I go classic pearls, or matching sapphires?

Pearls it is. I looked at the clock on the wall above the white vanity. Harley would be home in ten minutes or so... Plenty of time.

I put my hair up per usual. It was getting near my tail bone and it was a pain to untangle.

For make up I kept it simple. Ruby red lips and thick mascara.

I heard the door open and shut. Harley must be home.

"Izz? You here?"

"In the dressing room darling."

"Ahh yes. You look lovely. Just let me get dressed then we can go."

"M'kay."

Twenty minutes later we were waiting in the car as the chauffeur handed the keys to a valet.

"Harley?"

"What?"

I could see the look on his face morph into worry. He actually cared about me. How sweet. But he needn't stress. I needed the front.

"... I love you." Nah. Not really. But I actually did need him to believe me.

His face relaxed.

"I live you too Izzy. I really do."

I gave him a chaste kiss and stepped out of the car.

"Come on. Or we might be late."

Harley smirked. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind too much."

I smiled and shook my head. That man...

We stepped through the doors of the banquet room arm in arm. The classical quintet in the corner filled out ears with gentle music, perfect for mingling with pompous first class citizens.

Sent from my iPod


End file.
